An Unusual Method
by The Happy Monkey of Doom
Summary: Vince is home sick, and when Naboo and Bollo go out for the day, Howard is forced to stay behind and “look after” him... Warning: slash!


**Title:** An Unusual Method

**Author:** The Happy Monkey of Doom

**Disclaimer:** The Mighty Boosh is written by two adult men. I am a fourteen year old girl. Connect the dots.

**Summary:** Vince is home sick, and when Naboo and Bollo go out for the day, Howard is forced to stay behind and "look after" him... Warning: slash!

Heya. It's my first ever Boosh fic! Woohoo! Now I must continue writing the next one. Oh, if you read this, please review. Makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

"Ohhh, I feel so sick," Vince groaned, clutching the sofa with one hand and his stomach with the other. He was half bent over, the look complete with a pained grimace and buckling knees.

Howard either didn't hear him or blatantly ignored him, scatting under his breath as he walked by with a mug of tea in his hand. 

Vince paused and watched Howard go past, wondering why he wasn't getting any attention from the mustachioed jazz lover. He cleared his throat. "Ohhh, I feel so _sick_," he repeated, louder and more pointedly.

Howard sat on a chair and sipped at his tea.

From his bedroom, Naboo rolled his eyes and poked his head around the door. "What is it, Vince?" he asked in his soft, calming way that made him sound very concerned, even though he didn't care much for the situation at all.

"What's what?" Howard wanted to know, suddenly at perfect attention.

"I'm sick," said Vince, glad that Howard was finally listening, "_really_ sick. My stomach feels like it's got a porcupine rolling around in there. Or a hedgehog. Hedgehogs are the ones that roll." He flopped onto the large couch, stretching himself across it with the back of one hand over his head in a dramatic fashion before snatching his blanket from the floor and pulling it over himself.

Howard didn't think he'd ever seen Vince act like such a drama queen. Or maybe he really was sick... "Hedgehog in the stomach. Have you got anything for that, Naboo?" Howard asked, twisting in his seat to look at the Shaman.

Naboo shrugged. "Sorry. I haven't got time. I've got an important meeting with the Board of Shamen and I can't miss it. I'll make something for him when I get back. Can you take care of him until then?"

"What about Bollo?"

The irritable grunt of said gorilla DJ could be heard from within the depths of Bollo's room, a place as yet unexplored by any other member of the household (probably for good reason).

"Bollo's my familiar," Naboo reminded Howard. "He has to come with me. See you, Howard."

Howard's face fell. Surely they weren't going to leave him alone with a sick Vince! "Bye, Naboo." He thought for a moment as Naboo ducked into his room, Bollo lumbering in after him. "What kind of meeting?" Howard asked, the slightest amount of suspicion in his voice, but his only answer was the sound of a window opening and Naboo's magic carpet taking off across the midday skies. "Great," Howard grumped. "How am I supposed to _take care_ of you?"

"You can make me a smoothie to start," Vince told him, voice half muffled by the blanket which was currently being held over his face. Howard noted the lack of hesitation before Vince's reply.

"A smoothie?" he repeated in disbelief. Vince really would go out of his way to get people to do things for him, wouldn't he? "I'm not doing that."

Vince pushed the blanket sharply down away from his head. "Why not?"

"You can do it yourself!"

"Who's the sick one?" Vince demanded, pointing at himself to demonstrate the answer to that question.

Howard sighed, realising his defeat and willing to accept it under the circumstances. "You are," he said, standing up and setting his tea down. He meandered into the kitchen. "What do you want in it?"

Vince thought. "Banana...cheese, and...hmmm...tuna."

A fleeting grimace of disgust shot across Howard's face before it was quickly replaced by a rather put-on smile. "Whatever you say, Vince," he said – trying his best not to comment on Vince's choice of ingredients – and set about getting everything he would need in order to fulfil the request.

"Oh, and can I have the crazy straw as well?" Vince asked as an afterthought, sitting up and watching Howard over the top of the sofa.

"Yes, of course you can," Howard told him through grit teeth.

Vince lay back down again, chuckling. "Crazy straw," he repeated, under his breath.

Soon enough, Vince was sat quite comfortably on the couch, blanket over his lap and Howard's smoothie in his hand as he watched cartoons on the television.

Howard had just sat down and was lifting the mug of tea to his lips, when they heard a rapping on the window.

"What's that?" asked Howard, the mug lingering before an impatiently twitching moustache.

Vince pointed to the source of the noise. "It's the ninja with my _Cheekbone_," he told Howard, with a nonchalant air. "The window's closed. You'll have to go and get it for me."

Howard sighed loudly and deliberately at Vince, who in turn gave him a faint look and sipped weakly through his crazy straw. Howard put his tea back down and strode over to the window, opening it for the ninja. The ninja thrust Vince's magazine into Howard's hands before dashing off down the street to find the next subscriber on his list.

"Quick! Shut that window; it's too cold!" Vince exclaimed, and Howard did so, looking at the cover of the magazine rather than at the Electro-loving ponce behind him. This really was Vince's sort of thing, he supposed. It was all about hair and fashion and accessories. It wasn't for Howard Moon, all that stuff. Oh, no. It just went to show, he thought, that you don't need to have much in common with your best friend.

"Are you going to read it to me?" Vince inquired, switching off the TV. His tone _told_ Howard to do it, rather than asking him.

Howard thought about objecting, but after a brief moment of thinking about the consequences if Naboo and Bollo returned and found that he hadn't been nice to Vine, he changed his mind. "Yes. Okay. I'll read it to you." He sat down on the chair next to the three-seater couch which Vince currently had all to himself, and opened the magazine.

He flipped past the first few glossy pages – just contents. "Editorial?"

"No, skip that; it's never interesting." Vince dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand.

For the next half hour, Howard read to Vince, stopping every now and then to sip at his tea, reread certain parts or show Vince the pictures. By the end he was thoroughly sick of it, and knew three more pages about shirt and jacket cuffs than he had ever wanted or intended to know.

Vince looked satisfied, though, so at least his efforts were to some purpose.

Howard put the magazine down on the coffee table, just as Vince reached for the remote and switched the TV back on.

"Howard," said Vince, after a moment's surprisingly quiet thought.

"What now?" Howard demanded, feeling a small but angry rant coming on. "You want me to rearrange your entire CD collection into order by the date each one was released? You want me to make you a peanut butter sandwich but take out all the peanuts and replace them with gummy worms? You want a pile of sugar poured slowly into your mouth through a funnel? Huh? What do you want, Vince?"

Vince made a face at Howard; the kind of face that plainly says 'You idiot, what are you on about?' He gave his response. "I think you're overreacting a little. I'm not even hungry! I just want you to...sit next to me."

"Hm?" Howard raised his eyebrows, wondering if he had heard right.

"Sit next to me?" said Vince again, looking expectant.

Howard fidgeted for a moment. "Oh," he said shortly, then did as Vince had asked him.

They both settled into the couch, eyes on the colourful animated figures running back and forth across the screen. Howard was so distracted by the sharply dressed cartoon animals that he didn't notice Vince's hand on his knee until he looked down to reach for his tea.

He paused mid-reach, looking down at where Vince's hand was sat. His eyes traveled up Vince's arm, to his shoulder, to his face. Vince was staring straight ahead, eyes glued to the screen as if nothing had happened.

Howard sat back without his tea and looked at the screen as well, deciding not to make a fuss about it. After all, it was possible that with his deep involvement in the television, Vince didn't even know he'd moved his hand.

He was less sure of this, however, when Vince rested his head on Howard's shoulder a few minutes later.

That was when Howard started to get a little nervous – although at the same time, it was oddly comfortable... Wait, what? No it wasn't! He was just being nice to his sick friend. Or so he told himself.

Before he even knew what was happening, there was a pair of soft lips pressed against the corner of his jaw.

Howard leapt to his feet, almost tripping on the corner of the table. He regained his balance and spun around to face Vince, who looked equally as surprised as Howard felt.

"Whoa there, what's that about?" Howard demanded, acting this defensive because of two reasons. 1) Vince was obviously just joking around and that hurt Howard, and 2) Vince was sick and Howard didn't want to catch whatever he had.

"What's what about?" asked Vince, pretending he didn't know.

"That!" Howard said, pointing in a useless gesture to where he'd just been sitting.

"What?" said Vince, actually starting to get a little confused now.

"You just _kissed_ me," Howard said, lowering his voice as if someone else was going to hear him.

Vince shrugged, still not seeing the point. "...Yeah...?"

"You're acting like it's nothing," said Howard incredulously.

"It _is_ nothing," Vince said, with a quick roll of his eyes. "It's just a kiss!"

"But...you're sick," was all Howard could manage to think of to say. For some reason, it sounded pretty lame when he said it out loud.

"I feel better," Vince reasoned.

"No you don't!" Howard accused.

"You nursed me back to health!"

"No I didn't!"

There was silence for a few moments. Vince shifted uncomfortably, knowing he had to tell Howard the truth. So he came right out with it. "I was never sick."

Howard was about to yell back a retort, then he realised what Vince had just said. "Pardon?"

"I made it up! Naboo and Bollo are in on it too."

"But...why?" asked Howard, not taking the time to fit the pieces together.

"Why do you think?"

It clicked. "...Oh." So, Vince wasn't joking after all. And he wasn't sick, either. That was Howard's two reasons for defensive actions out the door. Still, he didn't know where to go from here. Maybe he wanted the same thing Vince did... It sure had felt nice with Vince sitting up against him, sharing body warmth. But he wasn't supposed to have those kind of thoughts about his best friend, and he didn't know why he was having them! Howard had dismissed them when they had happened before, when he'd dreamt of Vince dancing in women's lacy underwear or swimming naked in a lake at night. But now, with Vince making the first move, he was suddenly unsure if they _should_ be dismissed.

"Sit with me," Vince commanded, breaking the awkward gap between speech.

Howard did so without thinking about it, and all of a sudden Vince had scooted up to sit next to him. His heart was beating faster progressively as Vince moved and squirmed against him, trying to get comfortable on the couch.

Howard's arm was being squished, so he moved it unsteadily to rest behind Vince's neck and over his shoulders.

Just then, something occurred to Howard. "Wait. You're not sick, and yet you made me do all that stuff for you?"

"Well, it had to look believable," Vince explained.

Before Howard could open his mouth to form a response, Vince was kissing him, preventing him from saying anything. Howard started to kiss back, and arms around each other, they fell back across the couch, Howard now on top of Vince.

One of Vince's legs wrapped itself around Howard, and Vince could feel his friend's warm hands slipping under his shirt.

Howard cupped his hands over Vince's chest, almost expecting there to be breasts there. Remembering that Vince was, in fact, a man, he flattened his hands again, hopefully before Vince noticed.

Vince broke out of the kiss, and as they both gasped for air, he positioned his lips near Howard's ear. "Careful with my hair," he told Howard, because it was being messed about on the arm of the couch.

"Sorry," Howard apologised, letting Vince wriggle into a more suitable position. Damn, even that felt good, Howard thought. He looked at Vince, who was already panting and disheveled. Howard's heart was now beating like a rabbit's. Better do what rabbits do best, Howard thought, kicking the blanket aside. He started to push Vince's shirt up over his head as Vince kissed and sucked at Howard's neck.

It only grew more intense from that point on as clothes were shed and flung aside, and each man got more lost in the rush of feeling and less attached to the boring by comparison outside world.

When Bollo and Naboo returned home, it was to a probably naked Vince and Howard spooning on the couch, the blanket covering all the bits that needed covering.

Naboo looked amused. "That's an unusual method of healing," he commented, to which Howard froze, eyes wide. Bollo chuckled gruffly.

Howard's eyebrows narrowed. "Shut it, you."

End.


End file.
